


Sherlock Found

by walnutpipes



Series: Held Back [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, johnlock - Fandom, sherlockbbc
Genre: Drug Addict Sherlock, Drug Use, John in Afghanistan, M/M, PTSD John, Panic, Presumed Dead, References to Drugs, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walnutpipes/pseuds/walnutpipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is found, but is it too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Found

In the distance John saw an old warehouse. Wondering, could Sherlock be there?

As he got close he noticed people gathered around old drums with fires in them trying to ward off the wind from the Thames. It was cold and biting, not one you wanted to be out in. There were some people just laying against the walls of the buildings, others, walking and talking to them selves. This must be a “crash house”.

John didn’t want to be noticed so he doubled back around staying along the fence and overgrown scrub. He remembered in Afghanistan doing many patrols like this. The insurgents like to use old run down warehouses to stock pile weapons or even meet and discuss their next ambush. There was always more that one way than a door to get in and he was looking just for that.

He saw a small hole where the siding was pulled back. Judging from its looks, it had been used before either as a way to get in or a bolt hole to get out. John was easily able to slip through.

Once he was through, he quickly bolted behind a beam and peered a look around. Nothing and no one were to be seen. Beam to beam he weaved in and out looking for Sherlock to no avail. Where was he?

Abruptly John head a door slam shut and two people talking. Their voices loud and slurred. “Did you see that guy up there? He’s all dressed in a suit. Looks expensive and he’s been there for days. Wonder if he has anything on him? Maybe he’s got some money.” “Or a nice watch we could trade for a hit or the like”, the other man murmured.

John knew they were talking about Sherlock. He silently followed them. Room after room they past. All were large spaces where items had been stack and stored till shipping time. It was a few rooms later that they stopped and turned. John waited till he didn’t hear their footsteps and followed. What he saw stunned him. He was a room half as big as a football field and all strewn about were people. Many were just laying on the floor, some were sitting up against the walls, others were huddled around each other for warmth. So many people, he had no idea this ever existed. It looked like a refugee camp.

John saw a corner full of stacked chairs, garbage, mattress, and boxes. Its there he ran and hid. It offered a good look of the whole room. From there he watched the two men as they purposely walked to a far corner to a person laying on a mattress against the wall under a broken window. Poor bloke John though. Theres no way you could be warm, probably dead. But that’s exactly were the two men went.

John saw Sherlock’s prone form laying on the mattress from where he hid. Instant fear gripped him as he wanted to rush over to see him, to touch him, to even see if he was still alive. John could just see his wavy hair and his razor cheekbones. John would know those anywhere so etched in his mind. Remembering the time at the factory on the Hound of Bakskerville case when Sherlock swung on his coat and flipped his collar up. “You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your collar up so you look cool”. John’s misted eyes cleared instantly when the two men were closing in on Sherlock.

“Oi!! Who are you and what do you want” John heard from behind. It was a gravely voice on that had seen too many rough years on the streets. John turned and looked the man in the eyes. His first assumptions were right, too many years on the streets. The mans face was weather worn, wrinkles around the eyes where they had squinted against the wind from the Thames. He was lean and rough and stubbly from living on the streets lucky to have found food where he could. His greying hair, stringy from oil and neglect spilled over his eyes, his deep steely blue eyes that pierced him. He asked again, “Who are you and what do you want?”. John grunted and thumbed toward Sherlock. “Him” he said. The man replied, “He’s nothing. He’s been laying there for days. He’s been mumbling and scream to himself all that time. He must have gotten some bad stuff.” John felt his gut drop and go cold.

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see one of the men leaning over Sherlock. The man picked up Sherlock’s arm and rolled him over proceeding to go through his clothes. Finding nothing the man snorted and gave a Sherlock a kick, turned, and walked away. 

John was instantly ready to beat the man within an inch of his life for touching and kicking Sherlock. No one touches Sherlock, no one but him. Both men shrugged and as they walked away John heard them say, “Someone’s already beat us to the body”. 

The man beside him grunted, “Looks dead to me.” “Now I got to find me some boys to haul him to the river before he stinks up the place.”

John didn’t hear the last words as he bolted across the room, not even careful to step over the piles of people sleeping off their latest kick.

When he reached Sherlock, John was cold with fear. He fell beside him afraid to touch him, afraid of what he’d find. As he reached out his hand a tear rolled down his cheek. No, god no. Don’t be dead, he thought to himself. When he softly touched Sherlock’s cheek John barely heard a soft moan from Sherlock’s throat. A sob escaped John’s lips. He softly caressed Sherlock’s cheek and touched his hair. Oh Sherlock, he thought. What have you done?

**Author's Note:**

> There are references to John knowing Sherlock intimately. Not sure how detailed "intimate" I will describe later, but be warned.


End file.
